


American Empire

by F2cbrn



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Alternate History, Capital Punishment, Imperialism, Insurgencies, military occupation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:14:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27161678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/F2cbrn/pseuds/F2cbrn
Summary: As the Mexican-American War ended, Lady Liberty was seeking more.  Annexing Baja California, the Yucatan, and the northern 1/3 of Mexico south of the Rio Grande, The American Imperialists left Mexico less than half the nation that it once was and with many Mexicans under occupation. However, as insurgents continue to harass her soldiers, America will not so kind as to let that go lightly...Basically a short story I had to write for my AP Lang class to get extra credit. Figured I'd put it here because why not.
Kudos: 1





	American Empire

I tried reaching out to everybody I could think of and I was still 10 grand short. That is, everybody but the one person I didn’t want to ask, the one person who had damned my country, General Scott. 

As the United States Invaded the still struggling Mexican Empire, nothing could withstand her wrath. By war’s end, the American conquest had marched as far south as the southern tip of Baja and Invaded the Yucatan. Not to be forgiving Lady liberty had annexed all of her conquered lands, leaving Mexico to be cornered by the Americans and held less than half of the land it once was. 

As American Troops marched into the heart of Mexico, the carnage of battle had marred the land, leaving villages destroyed and the economy in shambles. 

Hang em and help em, I thought bitterly as I passed several patriots hung at the gallows, their stretched necks holding signs reading Rebel on them. 

I kept my head low as I passed a US Soldier standing guard at the street, his gaze hard and indifferent as he looked at me for a second before shifting his gaze towards the town square. Moving forward, I headed towards the provisionary bank set up by the military. 

Less of a formal institution, the bank was set up to help locals rebuild after the war was over. Only having existed for a few days and with supplied stretched thin, the bank was nothing more than a circle of wagons with tables and chairs in the middle. 

Briefly pausing at the entrance to the bank, I dispelled any thoughts of stopping and entered the area. 

I need a mule, I reminded myself. The one I had had been killed in the fighting when Mexican Army soldiers use my farm’s fields as a hiding area from the advancing American onslaught. As the Americans came, they fired into my field shooting anything that moved, only to kill my poor mule. The enemy troops had left hours earlier. Now with my mule dead and most of my farm destroyed, I desperately needed money so I can begin to earn a living again. 

Walking into the bank, I moved to the man at the desk to get my loan. The man was a young officer, face still boyish and eyes full of life. Much to contrast with the cold and hardened men that had marched through the streets not weeks earlier. Quickly asking for a loan, the young man sighed and had me fill out the proper forms and paperwork for it. With the monotonous task one, he walked towards the wagons the bank and brought me my money. As he catalogued the transaction, I went to collect my money in a bag when something sharp cracked past my ear. 

Ducking down and instinctively covering my head, I glanced up to see the young officer with his face blown open by a bullet, thrown back in his chair as he slumped and unceremoniously collapsed to the ground. 

The soldiers nearby sprang to their feet and raised their arms against the locals in the area, all of whom ducked to the ground and cowered against the barrels. Another crack, another shot whizzed by, this one taking the hat off a soldier who was prodding a woman with his bayonet. They all turned to the East where a group of dozens of insurgents rode over the horizon, screaming with their pistols aimed and firing. 

Several soldiers fell as rebel bullets hit their mark, their comrades returning fire and felling several of the patriots. The fighters circled the bank, firing their weapons at the startled Americans stationed there and threw torches at the wagons and tents. 

As the bank began to burn and smoke filled the sky, more rebels appeared over the horizon and began attacking the outnumbered yanks. Dismounting after killing a several troops, the rebels began to enter a brutal melee with the trained soldiers as they fought to exterminate each other. 

While the sounds of chaos and death rang around me, I quickly swiped my bag of money from the desk and crawled to behind the counter. Knowing that the rebels had a reputation of attacking those whom they perceived to be working with the American Imperialists, especially those who went to collect money from the provisional banks. Turning to my right, I liberated the recently deceased young officer of his service revolver for protection in case any of my countrymen ever came after me. 

Keeping low and sensing a lull in the fighting, I went to run out of the bank through a gap in the wagons. Only to have an American soldier then promptly spring out, rifle poised and ready to fire. I quickly raised the revolver I had stolen and pulled the trigger in a panic. 

Click 

I didn’t cock it. 

Laughing at my misfortune and inexperience with the pistol, the man in front lowered his gun before striking me in my head with the butt of the rifle. 

When I came to, I was being led up a set of wooden stairs. Looking around, I saw I was being dragged by two American soldiers, both with faces full of hate and rage. When I reached the top of the platform, I was held in place as a soldier walked in front of me. Glancing to my left, I saw a soldier standing next to a wooden lever. 

Feeling a weigh settle itself around by neck, I looked down to see a sign that read out one word. 

Rebel 

I frantically tried to break free only to be held in place as a something tight was fastened around my neck. 

I was at the gallows. 

I felt a presence to my left and saw the same soldier who had stopped me from making my escape earlier, now with a self-satisfied smirk and a malicious glint in his eyes. I tried to open my mouth, begging to be let go and that I was innocent, but it was nipped at the bud as another soldier came up from behind and gagged me. The world around me tuned out as one thing kept repeating in my head. 

I was at the gallows and I’m going to die. 

I was at the gallows and I’m going to die. 

I was at the GALLOWS and I'm going to DIE. 

I was at the GALLOWS and I'm- 

The lever was pulled.


End file.
